Pain
by Character Death
Summary: So when the burning orange sun finally bid its goodnight Malfoy was already prepared for what he must do. Unsheathing his dagger, which had been hidden in his shirt sleeves he made his way over to the sleeping Hermione. Still Dhr.


Disclaimer: The normal **boring** statement has been deleted you should have gotten the message by now, but just for old times sake: 'I don't own any of the character or spells etc contained within the Harry Potter novels written by none other than J.K Rowling'.

A/N: A very short story I must admit but I believe that this is a sufficient gift to all you reviewers in time for my birthday (you know exactly what you can give back). To be fair I wrote this in maybe half an hour which i'm sure is my fastest time yet.

* * *

**Pain **

The air that surrounded Malfoy formed various shapes before his eyes, tantalising and teasing him trying to stray him from his path. Yet the force of the wind left his eyes watery and his cloak billowing reminding him just why he was here in dreary england when he could be staying in his italian home. The breeze came with its surprises though as Malfoy finally picked up the scent which he had been searching for night and day. He had to admit, she was altogether too good at hiding from him.

The slightly fragrant scent of lemons; both acidic, delectable and very much an acquired taste, directed him in a south-westerly direction. He followed the track, taking the occasional wrong turn only for his determination to kick in and lead him to pursue the ultimate prize. Even when the urban stench finally began to abate he still could not distinguish the odd lemon tree from what he was searching for. Nor could the poisonous fumes of sulphur dioxide confirm to him just what was occuring in his body at this present state of time.

* * *

In a dank corridor underground the very image of sheol was recreated, to add to the affect beacons of flame illuminated the area charmed to provide no heat, just light. It was in this sorrowful, forsaken land that a pitch black chair lay seated facing an unusual fireplace, for within the fiery depths lay the head of one Lucius Malfoy who seemed to be in deep conversation with the man who lay on that dark, evil chair. Then the light from the fire exposed the hideous beast who resembled a serpent rather than a man, as he leant forward head inclined upwards. With the voice of one who could whisper in a room and instantly be heard he asked one question that sounded considerably more like a threat.

"Everything has been done just as I asked I would presume."

"Yes master I recieved the parcel and have administered it suc-"

"I haven't got all day a simple yes or no would have done!"

The grimace upon the shady character would have sent any creature from your scariest nightmares fleeing and it would appear that the serpent was more than dissatisfied. The man in the flames who defied many laws of physics seemed about to stutter out an apology when he was brought to a halt clutching his left arm in apparent agony, with a brief look of satisfaction from the gruesome monster, the flames with a slight tinge of green rose up blocking the man from view until eventually they became calm orangey flickers. Lucius had gone from sight.

* * *

When his sense led him to another orchard packed to the brink with lemons he finally began to show his annoyance and having sat down for only one minute he began to move away. Gesturing for his two companions, Crabbe and Goyle to follow he made for the nearest exit only to be stopped by the sight of a women frolicking around a tree mere metres away from him. He allowed a smirk to appear on his weary features thinking all along to himself: 'Why Granger you clever minx!'

Only the renowned know-it-all would hide herself in the exact place where he would not think to look, right under his pointy nose. Had he not glimpsed the exact hue of her brown hair dancing in the last lemon tree plantation which he had visited? Suddenly tiny recollections, small hints lying directly in his line of gaze pounded within his head making him become frustrated at his own stupidity. Only she would have the nerve to follow him, every time he told himself that she was little way ahead of him, she was a little behind.

Dismissing his two goons (as he liked to call them) Malfoy made his way over to where she was currently swaying in an ironically bright yellow summer dress. Even when she spotted him she did not falter, in fact much to his chagrin she gave him a dainty wave and gestured for him to join her. There was only one thought in his head at that point: 'She should be running for her life'.

Then he remembered that this was Hermione Granger, someone who would not flinch at the face of danger and most certainly not him.

When he was finally within touching distance Hermione led him to an inconspicuous cottage and invited him to stay for the night. There seemed to be an understanding between the two which spoke volumes about what the two thought of each other. The rules were basic, while there is light, there is peace after the sun has disappeared its every man/woman for themselves.

So when the burning orange sun finally bid its goodnight Malfoy was already prepared for what he must do. Unsheathing his dagger, which had been hidden in his shirt sleeves he made his way over to the sleeping Hermione. Pulling her face towards him, he kissed her like his life depended on it and feeling her react he almost jumped away in shock. Then releasing his gift into her abdomen he stepped away from the whimpering girl.

It was not the end of his torture yet though as he tried incredibly hard to breathe.

What erupted from his mouth were the short gasping sounds of an old man near death and indeed as he looked down he noticed that he was not the only one who had delivered a present. Their blood mixed together on the sodden, permanently stained, cream carpet and Malfoy decided then and there that he had never seen anything as beautiful as that.

For a few minutes longer he remained in denial, informing himself continously that the stab wound was a mere pin prick and that his inabilty to breathe was due to the lack of oxygen in the dusty room. Then to his abrupt shock the poison which was reeling within his blood vessels revealed its presence accelerating the death process and proving to him instantly just how little his father had trusted him. It would seem that fate had one more surprise for him.

Their love had cost them their lives and yet if a person later inspected the bodies, they would notice that each face had a warm smile upon it. For love was just as much a burden as it was a happy event and nothing ever came without a price.

The End


End file.
